


Sleeping

by EasyTiga



Series: Easy Tiga's Thirst Tweets [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Sam, But Like Just Letting You Know, Dubious Consent, Guilty Dean Winchester, Horny Dean Winchester, In That Sam Returns His Feelings And Would Have Said Yes, M/M, Rimming, Since Dean Didn't Ask, Sleeping Sam Winchester, Somnophilia, Still Kind of Rape Though, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:27:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26603716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EasyTiga/pseuds/EasyTiga
Summary: Sam is asleep and Dean does things to him. Whether or not Sam wakes up is up in the air.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Easy Tiga's Thirst Tweets [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935295
Comments: 7
Kudos: 183





	Sleeping

Sam’s not waking up any time soon, Dean realises as he pokes him with a finger, first on his cheek, then on his arm, then on his thigh-meat. He even smacks his face once or twice to see if he gets a reaction out of him. No. His little brother is gonzo. It might have to do with the bottle of liquor that he drank, or it could be the seven nights in a row of hardly any sleep, though Dean has his suspicions it’s the former, given how this isn’t the first time Sam passed out after getting sloshed.

When Dean came back from another beer run, he found Sam like he is now, passed out on his front, the curve of his ass drawing Dean’s eyes first. He had to shake his head to stop himself from drooling at the sight of it, the perfect arch, the way it wriggled as Sam moaned softly in his sleep, arms at odd angles, legs spread a touch. It’s wrong, but the first thought he had was that he wished Sam wasn’t wearing so many clothes.

He took a seat on the opposite side of Sam, twisting the cap off his next beer, drinking in long pulls as he watched Sam twitch and curl his hips, ass swishing enticingly, lips parting, eyes squeezing shut before relaxing again. Fuckin’ nerd still had his shoes on or else Dean would probably have been able to see his toes curling in his shoes. Why he has no idea. Sam’s hips started pitching down, dragging along the couch, a soft groan emitting past his lips.

Dean felt himself stir. That’s why he’s crouched in front of him now, attempting to wake him up. Well, attempting is probably a bit of a stretch. He’s not really trying all that hard. Dean’s hand settles on Sam’s ass before he knows what he’s doing, and it’s pressing back against him, Dean’s fingers digging into the meat, eliciting a louder groan from his sleeping brother.

Shit. That’s hot. Dean’s aroused. Fuck. He should probably take his hand back. To his credit, he was certainly about to, but then Sam’s hands came to life, pulling his jeans over the curve of his firm, round ass. Dean salivated at the unadulterated, sinful image, fingers flexing on the meat, wanting to touch, touch, touch. Sam’s ass developed a mind of its own, thrusting up, chasing Dean’s hand.

He smacks him. Soft, at first. Sam moans, thrusts back again. Dean smacks him harder. To get him to calm down? Because he likes it? Because he wants to do it again? Dean doesn’t know, but he feels his cock leak into his boxers as his hand connects with the reddening flesh of Sam’s ass once more. Sam writhes and parts one cheek, showing Dean his clenching, pink pucker.

Dean falls back on his ass, chest heaving. Holy shit. Fuck. “Sam?” he calls out. Sam says nothing. Just holds his cheek open, thrusting against the couch, lips parting on silent nothings. “Christ.” Sam still doesn’t say anything, tilting his gorgeous ass back again and again, and Dean has to wonder how many times he’s done that for other people.

A spike of jealousy shoots through him and propels him back into his crouch, hand settling back over Sam’s animated ass. He gives it another couple of swats, this time wanting it to hurt a little bit. Just a little bit. He’s not a monster or anything, though the click in his jaw might have something to say about that as he leans in for further inspection of Sam’s delicious-looking hole, opening and closing around nothing, looking like it’s desperate for some attention.

And since when has Dean ever denied Sam anything, sleeping or awake? Dean has a second of reflection, wondering if this is something that they can ever come back from, even as he nuzzles the space between Sam’s cheeks, revving himself up, getting a nice grip on both sides, prying him open until his entrance creates more of a diamond shape attempting to snap shut, but Dean’s not done admiring it, not done pooling saliva on the tip of his tongue, ready to dive on in and get Sam nice and loose and wet.

He can’t hold himself off any longer, the temptation too strong for him to bear the weight of. He closes the last bit of space after dripping a long line of spit to pool around Sam’s hole, lapping his tongue over it, sealing his lips over the stretch and thrusting his tongue through the gap, moaning at the taste of pure, _unfiltered_ Sam as he takes his fill, nose settling in Sam’s seam, the flat of his tongue covering Sam’s hole and then some as he pulses his tongue over the crease, relishing every clench around his slick muscle, every audible gasp and creasing of fabric.

Dean licks a long strip from the base of Sam’s balls to his crack, hardening his tongue to a fine point, wanting Sam’s body to _feel_ every bit of him, rucking Sam’s jeans further down his thighs, gathering around his knees so Dean can dip lower, heft Sam’s cock into his palm and suckle at the leaking head while he draws patterns around his hole with the tip of one finger, not quite pushing in no matter how much Sam’s crease clenches around him.

Sam’s ass tips back, trying to accept his finger, but Dean stops him with a two-fingered spank to his ravenous hole, loving the way Sam’s entire body squirms at the pressure. So he does it again, in between holding Sam’s cock back at an angle so he can swallow half-way around him, releasing him with a wet pop to start pushing his fingers inside, letting Sam’s body do most of the work for him as it contracts and relaxes, allowing Dean full access.

But all Dean wants is enough to bear down on that pleasant little walnut, tuning in to Sam’s rigorous moaning, body getting hotter, fidgety, not staying still for a second, fucking back on Dean’s fingers. Dean’s losing it. He’s not gonna last much longer.

He gets himself out of his jeans, spits again and again into his hand to slick himself up, biting his lip in hesitation when he feels the inviting snap of Sam’s hole around the tip of his cock, pushing out, imploring him to slide in. And Dean’s never been that good at resisting, slapping the thick, blunt head of his cock over Sam’s hole, watching it spasm, Sam squirming, body bending, twisting, churning, hands flexing against nothing.

Dean pushes in when he physically can’t take it anymore, Sam’s sleep-relaxed body making it a smooth glide, his balls nudging up against Sam’s taint, his hands finding purchase on Sam’s hips. He grits his teeth and wills himself not to blow before he’s even had any amount of fun, like this.

“Sammy?” he calls out, resisting the urge to face-palm. Sure, wake Sam up the moment he’s balls-deep in his ass. That makes total sense. That wouldn’t lead to bitch-faces and Sam _never_ speaking to him again. He tries not to think about how this isn’t right, that he shouldn’t be doing this—but he’s weak, he’s so weak and Sam’s body feels so _fucking right_ clinging to his dick, holding him inside him, clenching harder each time Dean tries to pull back. “Fuck—tight little bastard. Well, little, _big_ bastard, I should say.”

Sam’s breath hitches, his hips lifting up, getting Dean buried to the root in his scorching heat. Fuck. How is he supposed to even get a few thrusts in with the way this is going? Dean controls his breathing and thinks about gross, disgusting shit that puts even _him_ off of food, waiting until he’s turned off _just enough_ that he can start fucking Sam in long, targeted rolls of his hips that have Sam fluttering around the thickness inside him.

He knows this isn’t going to last long, not even as he thinks about taking off the top bun of his burger and finding sewage instead of onions. Sam feels too good, too good to distract himself with gross shit, and it shows as Dean’s breathing falters, his eyes squeezing shut, fingers digging into sam’s hips, enough to bruise—fuck, that’s something he’s gonna have to try and explain in the morning.

Sam’s rolling his hips now like a pornstar, tightening instinctively at the right moments to have Dean’s eyes rolling back in his head, pulling out in the nick of time to come into the cup of his hand while he bites the inside of his cheek and works to keep his body up-right, reaching between Sam’s legs, pulling his dick back, using his own cum as lube to furiously jerk Sam’s cock until he too is adding to the mix on Dean’s hand.

“Holy shit. That was so hot… And I’m definitely going back to hell again. Great. Just fucking great. Can’t help yourself, can ya’, Winchester?”

TBC???

:D

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on twitter for future polls and have your chance to vote for your favourite choice! :D 
> 
> https://twitter.com/JackleConda
> 
> Also, feel free to suggest ideas.


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